


Fall is in the Air

by butimnotdeadyet



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Legends team - Freeform, Lisa Snart (mentioned) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8137397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butimnotdeadyet/pseuds/butimnotdeadyet
Summary: Captain Canary, baked goods, and misguided (resolved) suspicion. That's it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Needed something fluffy, saw FreyReh's challenge on Tumblr, and thought I'd try my hand.  
> This is as pure fluff as I can do, sorry.

He knew he was in trouble as soon as he walked through the bay doors. 

 

She was waiting for him in his room- as had become her norm in the past several months when he would occasionally ask to go into Central  _ alone _ during shore leave- having returned from this outing or another with her mother before him. He had hope, however; hope that he would have a chance to use his sink to wash away the evidence of his very _ colorful  _ evening before she could witness such a marked discrepancy of character with a few washes with Waverider’s most astringent soaps.

But, as soon as he crossed the threshold, Leonard saw it: the slightest wrinkle of her nose that told him he was caught, that the draft that he followed him in from the corridor had wafted his scent to her, sealing his fate. 

 

Sara rose from the mattress, shins supporting her weight, and drew her eyebrows together as she sniffed the air. 

“Len. . .” she paused, sniffing again before her eyes widened dramatically. 

Yes. He was caught. At least jail time wasn’t a possibility with this particular lapse of judgment.

Then again, this may be worse. Oh, how one falls from grace.

 

“Leonard, why do you smell like . . . pumpkin?”

And, oh, the things a man will do for his little sister.

 

“I plead the fifth.”

A bemused scoff in return, before, “And how does that usually work out for you, Captain Cold?”

He is so  _ tempted  _ to roll his eyes. Must everyone on the boat equate capture with conviction? He, for one, has only rarely been sentenced; let alone served to completion. 

 

“Fine. If you must know, I was placed on ‘gutting’ duty.” And the brow furrow increase, accented by a deepening chin dimple, until a moment passes and he could almost swear to hearing the metaphorical  _ click _ that accompanies her understanding.

“Y- you were  _ pumpkin carving? Why?” _ A small part of him still hopes that the faint disgust in her voice is due to a secret hatred of pre-October squash mutilation in general and not the fact that _ he _ was elbow deep in one not two hours before. But, judging by her downward arching lips and clear eyes, now repeatedly flicking between his hands and his face, he thinks the likelihood falls with the latter. Damn it.

 

“Harvesting, actually. Handling knives with a purpose besides that of seasonal decoration.” He truly cannot withhold the sigh that comes forward when her frown refuses to fade. “Lisa needed fresh pumpkin for a recipe. I swear there was no festive face-carving involved.”

 

Now, Leonard was well aware that Sara could be petulant when she wanted, but when she stood with a  _ ‘humph’  _ and a dramatic flip of hair over her shoulder, he almost question the intelligence of entangling himself with someone so inclined.

That is, until she marched across the distance between them and rose up on her toes with a hand braced on his shoulder to whisper in his ear. 

“That better be true, because you  _ promised _ that you would carve with me this year and if you went back on that oath, you'd have to pay the price.” 

Oh, yes, that’s why. Because Sara Lance is also a vicious woman who has earned his utmost respect. She  _ had  _ recently threatened to replace all of his delightfully dark and monochromatic sweaters with a decidedly more flamboyant (he believes she specifically mentioned  _ red _ ) selection. 

 

Her hand withdrew and Leonard internally patted himself on the back for his previously enacted transparency- a happening almost as rare as the situation itself.

 

“It is. And I can prove it.” One of the glorious things about the cooler months is that, once again, it’s reasonably acceptable to wear his beloved and fantastically deep-pocketed parka. Which just so happens to allow the easy transport a half dozen freshly baked pumpkin-and-chocolate-chip muffins.

 

As soon as the confections hit the air, wrapped in securely and handsomely in cellophane (the Snart siblings are not complete heathens, thank you very much), any thought of faithlessness seemed to be cast from Sara’s mind. The muffins, in all of their nearly florescent-orange wonder, were snatched from his hands as soon as they were offered.

 

She stared down at the package in hand as if she'd half expected them to be made out of Styrofoam until that moment. “You made muffins? Pumpkin muffins-”

 

“It was more of a group effort, actually; Lisa prepped while I gathered the more tedious ingredients, her friend Shawna was in charge of clean-up.” He swears he could still feels traces of juice and fibrous string under his nails and between his fingers.

“But- Why?” She was fingerings the small cloth tie that held the cellophane in place and Leonard found himself nodding his consent for her to open the package before answering.

 

“It's a compromise, of sorts; I am victim and co-conspirator to any of her trial baked goods for the fall months, and she cannot force me into any form of costume come Halloween.” There was a time before the agreement, a time with many tears and not a small amount of shouting matches, that he was glad they had surpassed by Lisa’s teens. “These muffins, though, are safe. They came from an old recipe of her mother's. Very demanding, but worthwhile.” He nodded again, prompting Sara to remove one of the small cups and peel away the wrapper before taking a bite.

 

Her first reaction was to let out a deep and very satisfied hum, then to cram half of the remaining muffin into her mouth without pause. Leonard felt himself smile at her obvious enjoyment. They so rarely got to eat anything with real sugar, something that never bothered him greatly, but seemed to hit many of the others rather hard. He had been tempted to bring back a full tray’s worth with him, but Lisa would have questioned his motives, knowing that he preferred to horde sweets over sharing (though whether or not she realized the practice was induced by her own tendency to make off with his treats, he didn't know).

 

“What kind of spices?”

Sara had a trace of chocolate in the corner of her lips. Very tempting.

 

“Nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger- the works. And a few that shall remain unnamed for the sake of secrecy.” A flick of her tongue as she plucked off a portion of crisp glaze and the chocolate was gone, soon followed by the bead of sugar and spice.

 

“So,’’ she began as she downed half the remain muffin, “do I have to share? Because I  _ will _ fight Mick for the rest of these. Hell, I’ll take out the rest of the team to, Jax and Rip don’t get near enough sparring time.”

He could see the honest challenge in her eyes, as if she was begging to prove her worthiness of his baked good. Cute.

 

“No, Assassin. You only have to share with me.” That had her raising her eyebrows. He in turn bracketed her with his arms, hands resting at her waist, to keep her from bolting away with the goods. “And if you don’t, those will be the only ones you ever get.”

 

“Hmm, can’t have that happening, Leonard. Guess I’ll have to play nice.”

True to her word, she held the last fraction of muffin up in offering, suggestive of sacrifice despite the fact that a goodly portion of the crust had already been removed and consumed. He cocked his head with a fittingly sarcastic smirk and mock gasp, ‘ _ really, for me?’ _ , before leaning forward to snag it from her fingertips with softened lips.

 

The smile they shared a moment later was one of those rare few that were known to make Mick and Jax scoffed almost as quickly as Rip, Ray, and Stein turned to confide in each other’s appreciation. 

This. This is why Sara and Lisa must be kept from spending great amounts of time together at all costs. Sara Lance makes him warm, just like his sister makes him soft, and together they make him a massive, parka-wearing, disappointment of a supervillain.

 

But then Sara is pushing herself onto her toes again and he feels her meld their mouths together with a hand sliding behind his neck to hold him in place. Like he’d be going anywhere. 

Oh, right. He likes soft and warm. On occasion. Just about as much as he likes the taste of pumpkin and chocolate on the lips of the woman he loves.

 

Sara pulls away for a moment and looks into his eyes, a serious set to her features. 

“And don’t think that this means I won’t be wrestling you into a costume next month; that little deal only works on  _ your _ little sister. No amount of muffins will get you out of it.”

 

He chuckled, feeling the vibration somewhere deep in his chest.

“That may be true, Sara, but you haven’t tried my pumpkin pie.”

He pressed a kiss to her nose before giving her a parting squeeze and moving towards the bathroom.

 

“Hmm, we’ll just have to see about that.” He heard her say behind him, along with what if he would hazard a guess was the crinkle of another muffin being liberated from its foil, and there was an unmistakable lilt of humor to her voice. “Won’t we, Pumpkin?”

  
Yeah, soft and warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Ba-Dum-Tss  
> That's really it.
> 
> Thanks for reading and please leave any comments you feel like.
> 
> Love,  
> Gin


End file.
